


First Christmas

by BobbySinger (wylf_storm)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Christmas fic, Fluff, M/M, like a lot of fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-14
Updated: 2013-10-14
Packaged: 2017-12-29 10:56:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1004591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wylf_storm/pseuds/BobbySinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The porch seat was considerably smaller than the couch inside, meaning that Dean’s thigh was pressed flush against Castiel’s in the chill air, and Dean didn’t mind in the slightest when Cas leaned against him, pressing closer against his side for warmth with the eggnog still clutched in one hand. And if Dean’s arm lifted and found it’s way around Cas’s shoulders, then that was his business.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Christmas

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Artmetica](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Artmetica/gifts).



> Inspired by Artmetica's amazing fanart wowowowow which can be found [[here]](http://archiveofourown.org/works/155596)

Dean cradled the small doll between his hands, carefully pinching the length of red ribbon between his finger and thumb as he hung the figure on a pin protruding from his wall. It was pure dumb luck that he’d managed to slice his finger on the craft knife that he was using for the felt, and he sucked the small drop of blood off it. It wouldn’t do to have a stain on the present he’d _made_ for Cas.

Leaving the doll hanging there, he slipped out of his room towards the kitchen and their mediocre medical supplies, past Castiel who was chatting amicably with Sam. Castiel glanced up as he walked past, and smiled when their eyes met, a silent invitation to continue without him.

Dean put a bandaid on his finger quickly, hiding the wound behind the thin layer of padding and plastic that was a several shades too dark to match properly with his skin.

He attempted nonchalance as he walked back to his room, pretending that he wasn’t excited out of his mind for Castiel’s first Christmas – even though Sam had pointed out it was far from his first, Dean still thought of it as such. It was his first with actual _people_ , Sam be damned if he tried to keep arguing his point.

Sam yawned as Dean passed behind the couch he was resting on, and Dean smacked his hand down over his brother’s open mouth with a clap and a shout of surprise from Sam.

“Get lost, Dean, I’m allowed to yawn.” He complained, smacking Dean in the stomach as he vaulted over the couch and onto the cushions next to his brother.

“If you’re so tired then go to bed, Sam! Wouldn’t want to miss Santa visiting you in the night,” Dean quirked his eyebrows, earning him another hit from Sam and a creased brow from Castiel.

“Dean, Santa Claus isn’t-“

“Let a man have dreams, Cas!” Sam laughed with him at the look of confusion on Cas’s face.

As their giggling died down, Sam heaved a sigh and pushed off the couch cushions. “I’m gonna hit the hay. See you guys in the morning.”

Both said their goodbyes to him, Dean getting a rather significant look that flitted between him and Cas a couple of times before Sam departed with a final wave and a quiet click of his door down the hall closing.

Castiel shifted a little on the edge of his chair, fidgeting.

“Don’t look so uncomfortable Cas, pull up some couch.” Dean said, patting the now empty cushions next to him. Castiel gratefully accepted the offer, but they were by no means close. The couch was a three-seater, and they were pressed up at opposite ends of it.

“How’re you liking it so far, Cas?” Dean asked, breaking the comfortable silence that had stretched out between them. It was one of the things that Dean liked the most about Castiel. He was happy to sit in silence, without feeling the need to break it with stupid questions or comment on the nature of the silence itself. “Earthly Christmas?”

Castiel, noticing Dean smiling at him out of the corner of his eye, turned and gave him a proper smile. “I’m liking it Dean. You humans have some… interesting theories around the tradition. I’m not sure I understand some of the customs, but I like the sentiment involved.”

Dean nodded, still smiling. He’d caught himself doing that a whole lot more whenever Cas was around.

“It’s snowing out, and there’s a seat on the deck. Come see, the flakes are really pretty.” He didn’t know what possessed him to say it, but once the words were out Dean found he didn’t regret them. Castiel’s beaming smile was more than compensation for any embarrassment he might have had over admitting to liking watching snow fall.

Dean snagged a bottle of eggnog and a glass on his way to the door, handing Cas the glass of the drink when he sat down on the porch seat. Dean chuckled when he made a face at the taste of it, and sat down next to him. The porch seat was considerably smaller than the couch inside, meaning that Dean’s thigh was pressed flush against Castiel’s in the chill air, and Dean didn’t mind in the slightest when Cas leaned against him, pressing closer against his side for warmth with the eggnog still clutched in one hand. And if Dean’s arm lifted and found it’s way around Cas’s shoulders, then that was his business.

They stayed like that for a while, Castiel curled against Dean with his head on his collarbone and Dean’s arm around Cas’s shoulders with his hand gently stroking the top of his arm, sitting in each others’ company watching the snow.

“You’re right, Dean.” Castiel murmured into his neck after the best part of half an hour had gone by. “It’s beautiful.”

Dean tilted his head to watch Castiel’s face, but the Angel wasn’t watching the snow. His eyes were fixed on Dean’s face and he suddenly found that there were a scant few inches between them, the white fog of their breath mingling across the small distance. Castiel’s eyes were hooded, and slipped shut when their foreheads bumped and rested together.

“I got something for you, Cas.” Dean mumbled, lips close to Castiel’s. He wasn’t sure if he had imagined the quiet disappointed huff that came from Castiel, or if it was a small gust of wind past the porch. Dean thought it was probably the former as Castiel pulled his head off Dean’s shoulder and sat up properly.

“You didn’t have to get me anything Dean.”

“Good, because I didn’t. I made it.”

Castiel’s eye grew a little wider and Dean suddenly wanted to kiss the surprised look off his slightly parted lips. He pushed the urge down, forcing it somewhere near his toes.

“Wait here, I’ll be right back.” He drew his arm out from around Castiel’s shoulders, but let the back of his hand brush against Castiel’s cheek briefly before he stood and went back into the house to retrieve the gift.

He gently lifted the doll off the pin by the length of crimson ribbon attached to the back of its head, and carefully hid it in his fist. He returned back to the porch where Castiel hadn’t moved, still sitting up straight on the seat. From behind, his dark hair shone in the light given from the outside light, giving it an almost blue tinge. He turned to Dean when he heard the door open.

Dean stepped out onto the wooden boards, moving to stand behind the seat. He put one hand on Castiel’s shoulder and leaned forward over his other so that a few strands of Cas’s hair tickled against the edge of his jaw. He let the doll fall out of his palm so that it swung back and forth from the ribbon pinched between his forefinger and thumb.

“Merry Christmas, Cas.”

Castiel’s face lit up when he saw the doll, a miniature of himself, white wings protruding from its back. He reached up a hand and cradled it in the air, halting it mid swing from Dean’s hand. His mouth twitched up into a smile and just watching his joy, Dean smiled too.

“You like it?” He asked nervously. Dean was having trouble seeing past the loose thread on one wing and the slight fraying on the small blue tie he had carefully knotted.

“Dean, I love it. Thank you.” Castiel looked up at him then, face all happiness and thanks. It wasn’t very surprising to Dean when he felt Cas’s hand close over his wrist instead of taking the ornament from him, and pulled him the rest of the way down towards Cas’s face so that their lips met. It was short – or maybe it was long? Anything less than forever against Cas’s lips felt like it was too short to Dean – but sweet and reverent.

“I love it, Dean.” Castiel repeated, pressing another kiss to the underside of his jaw. “But I didn’t get you anything. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, Cas. You got me the best thing I could have asked for.” He chuckled at the crease in Cas’s brow and stepped back to give Cas space to stand, rounding the seat so they were face to face when he did. “You’re here with me.” Dean pressed forward for another kiss, and was pleased to find that Cas kissed him back eagerly, one hand cupping the side of Dean’s face with such tenderness it almost made him weak at the knees.

“Come on,” He said pulling away, and taking Cas’s hand in his own, tucking the ornament into the pocket of Cas’s trenchcoat. “Let’s go inside.”

He flicked off the porch light as they stepped inside, and Dean led Cas to his room, turning off the lights as they went. Dean kicked the door of his room shut behind them, and stripped off his jacket and overshirt, but stopped suddenly when he realized how it might look to Castiel.

“Shit- Cas, man, I’m not trying to- I don’t-“

Castiel hushed him with a gentle press of his lips. “Dean, just make yourself comfortable. I don’t mind.”

Dean breathed out against Cas’s lips, and smiled shakily. He let the shirt and jacket fall off his arms and onto the floor, then kicked off his boots and chased them with his jeans so that he was in just boxers and a tee. When he looked up Castiel had shed his trenchcoat and shoes, as well as his dress pants so that he was in much the same state as Dean. He began to unbutton his white shirt, and Dean stripped off his tee so that Cas wouldn’t feel uncomfortable, leaving them both just standing in boxers. He gestured vaguely towards the bed, and Castiel nodded, peeling back the covers and slipping beneath them next to each other. There was a moment of hesitation before Dean slid across the sheets and pressed up against Cas’s side, resting his head on his chest and curling an arm across to wrap around his waist.

“Do you-“

“It’s fine, Dean. I like this. I like _you.”_ He chuckled, and Dean turned his face to press a kiss at the base of Cas’s throat.

He fell asleep like that, face pressed against Cas’s skin and Cas’s arms wound around him protectively. He woke in the morning to warm lips pressed against the top of his head, fingers stroking the line of his back, and blue eyes trained on his face when he looked up.

“Merry Christmas, Dean.”

He reached up and kissed him. “Merry Christmas, Cas.”


End file.
